


Build Me Up, Buttercup

by The_Black_Cat



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Inspired by Music, OverWitch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25268278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Black_Cat/pseuds/The_Black_Cat
Summary: Abigael had failed to show up to the past four dates. She’d only offered some half-assed excuse about something or another that Mel had only been willing to accept the first two times. And while she had feelings for Abigael and she wanted to give her as many chances as needed, Mel knew her own worth. She wasn’t Abigael’s toy and she wouldn’t let anyone disrespect her like that, no matter how she felt about them. That was what she’d told Abigael the last time, too. Either she gets her act together and shows up for this date, or they’re through.
Relationships: Abigael Jameson-Caine/Mel Vera
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Build Me Up, Buttercup

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! 
> 
> I've been shipping Mel and Abigael since the first time the nickname 'Potion Princess' was used in the series, but since I am a lazy cat of a person, I only just got around to writing something for them. 
> 
> This fic was inspired by The Foundations' song Build Me Up, Buttercup performed by the amazing Dannielle DeAndrea. I listened to it the whole time I was writing this, and I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone who's interested. 
> 
> I am not a native English speaker, so there might be some mistakes and errors in the text, which I apologise for in advance. I would also like to say that I know nothing about Puerto Rican culture and foods and the only information I have on it came from Wikipedia. There is only one sentence dealing with Puerto Rican cuisine in the story, but if I messed that up, I apologise. 
> 
> Now, without any further ado, enjoy!

Everything was perfect. Mel’d bribed her sisters to stay in their rooms for the evening, the authentic Puerto Rican chicharón de pollo with monfogo on the side was ready, home-made piña coladas were cooling in the fridge, the house was spotless. Perfect. And just in time, too. Abigael was supposed to arrive any minute now. And she’d better if she knew what was good for her.

This…thing between them had been going on for a while. It started with them working together out of necessity, but as they talked and got to know each other, they realised they were good together. They had caught feelings for each other, and after the initial period of denial and anger, they had come to terms with it, and with each other. And now, their time together was more about them talking, occasionally kissing and learning each other rather than brewing potions and vanquishing demons. Things couldn’t be better.

There was only one small problem. Abigael had failed to show up to the past four dates. She’d only offered some half-assed excuse about something or another that Mel had only been willing to accept the first two times. And while she had feelings for Abigael and she wanted to give her as many chances as needed, Mel knew her own worth. She wasn’t Abigael’s toy and she wouldn’t let anyone disrespect her like that, no matter how she felt about them. That was what she’d told Abigael the last time, too. Either she gets her act together and shows up for this date, or they’re through.

Mel was conflicted about the whole thing. A part of her, the one that already knew she loved Abigael, trusted her to show up on time. Surely, Abigael knew how important this was. But another part, the more sceptical part of her, the part that remembered everything Abigael had done to her, to her sisters, kept saying that she shouldn’t trust so easily. Abigael was a demon. She didn’t care. She just wanted to see if she could bang a Charmed One and now that she had, she wasn’t interested in anything other than playing with Mel’s feelings.

Shaking her head, Mel glanced at her phone. No texts.

Abigael would come.

When the clock showed seven, Mel smiled to herself, looking around expectantly. Abigael usually used the front door—and knocked politely whenever she did—but she had phase-shifted into the house a few times already, and Mel was keeping her options open.

Nothing moved. No sounds came. There was no knock on the door, no clicking of heels on the wooden floor, no breathy ‘hello’ in that stupidly attractive voice with that stupidly attractive accent. Nothing.

It was okay, Mel told herself. She was just running late. She’d promised. She’d promised to be there and Mel chose to trust her. Abigael would show, probably with a bottle of red, saying that there had been a line at the store or something. She would come.

But what if she didn’t show? It wouldn’t be the first time Mel’d gotten stood up. And Abigael’s promises were hardly something reliable. She probably completely forgot about this date and was in her apartment, shagging some random Susan bimbo—no. Abigael wasn’t like that. She had enough decency to break things off with Mel before jumping into bed with someone else.

But what if Abigael didn’t see this as something to be broken off? She’d never had a real relationship, not that Mel would know about it if she had, and she’d always done casual. Once the itch was scratched and the person had no use, that was it, she’d let them go.

Ten minutes past seven. Nothing. She didn’t show. That was it. As if this whole thing could have ended up differently. It was Abigael, for crying out loud! Was Mel really that stupid? Did she really think that she could—what? Tame Abigael? Change her? Make her into a good person with the power of love? Ha! Now she could see why Abigael laughed at them. They were stupid kids who didn’t know better.

Maybe she just got held up? Or there was an emergency or something. But before, when something like that happened, Abigael texted to let Mel know. Now there was nothing.

Then again, maybe it was for the best. They’d never exactly specified what this was or what they wanted from it, so maybe being ghosted was the best possible scenario. Maybe it was the only way of letting Mel down easy that Abigael could do.

She thought Abigael had changed. She thought Abigael had taken the chance to be better, to be a witch. But no. She was a demon. Demons can’t be trusted. Especially not with someone’s heart. Parker and Maggie should have taught her that much. But she was a stupid, naïve kid who needed to get burnt before learning her lessons. In all her annoying remarks, Abigael had been right about that.

It was quarter to eight when Mel decided not to wait any longer. She had told Abigael what would happen if she didn’t show, it was her choice. There was nothing Mel could do about it. At least Harry won’t have to cook the next morning. Maybe she’d get a thank you out of getting dumped.

She tried to swallow down the bitter aftertaste of rejection the whole time she was cleaning the kitchen. She tried to focus on it, to pay attention of every single one of her movements to take in every sound around her. Anything to stop thinking about being stood up. It didn’t work. Her mind constantly went back and forth between their interactions, analysing every one of her memories, trying to find both the signs that this had been coming from the start and the reasons to consider giving Abigael another chance. She thought of all their conversations, shared laughs and ideas, confrontations that were born of stubbornness and resolved in a matter of minutes because they just got each other. She thought of all the times they worked together on spells and potions, both sure and skilled, comfortable with each other and with trust that allowed them to work like a well-oiled machine. She thought of the times they had been sneaking around together, when it still had been too new, too surprising, and Mel had known her sisters wouldn’t understand. She thought of how that secrecy and flavour of forbidden romance made her feel all giddy and sexy.

Her heart ached to have it back, all of it. She’d gotten so used to Abigael and her being a thing that now, it just didn’t feel right to be without her. It didn’t feel real. Maybe that was just the part of her that still believed Abigael respected her enough to be honest with her, although that part was getting quieter by the minute.

For a moment, Mel wondered if she should have done something differently. Maybe if she’d been a little more relaxed or slightly more adamant about wanting an actual relationship, things would have been different. Maybe if she’d done something differently, Abigael would now be sitting at the table with her. Or they would never have started this thing at all. If she’d just been a little different—no. she refused to blame herself. She put her heart and soul into her relationship with Abigael, both romantic and platonic, in hopes of showing her the good of this world and maybe having some good shown to her. If Abigael didn’t deem it worthy to offer her the same, then that was on her.

Abigael made her choice. She made a choice for them both. And if that choice ended up breaking Mel’s heart, well, Mel would deal with it like the responsible adult she was. It wouldn’t be the first time her heart was broken and it sure as hell wouldn’t be as bad as it had been with Nico. She would push through. She was a fighter.

But Abigael not showing up felt like a betrayal, a very intimate one, too, and it stung and left a gaping wound in her chest. She’d trusted Abigael, even after everything she’s done to the Charmed Ones. She believed that there was hope for her, to be a better person, to try.

Mel scoffed into the empty room. She was a fool. Abigael had been right about that if nothing else.

With a sigh to herself, Mel looked around. The kitchen was spotless. There was no sign that a date was supposed to be held there, besides Mel’s clothes. There was nothing more to do but change into her pyjamas and go to sleep. But Mel found herself reluctant to leave the room. That would mean a definite end to the night and to whatever she and Abigael had. She didn’t want to let it go.

But why? She didn’t have a reason to wait around! Abigael was a demon and demons can’t be trusted! She’d been breaking Mel’s heart little by little for the past two weeks. She clearly didn’t want this and it would be stupid and toxic of Mel to hold onto them if Abigael wanted no ‘them’.

But a part of her brought forth memories of times when Abigael had made her heart warm and fluttery, to give her hope or to make her even more miserable, Mel wasn’t sure. Like the time in Mel’s room, when she convinced Abigael to lay down with her and Abigael insisted that she didn’t want to cuddle, but then she ended up curling into Mel’s side with a happy little sigh. Or the time Abigael came over with home-made pie that Maggie had been craving for days and Harry had been too busy to make it. Abigael had denied that she’d made it for them, but she’d watched them eat it with a happy, satisfied glint in her eyes and she’d even accepted Maggie’s praise with no snarky remarks. Or that time on the couch in Abigael’s apartment when they were trying to get down to business and as she was trying to undress her, Mel found Abigael’s ticklish spot on her side and Abigael retaliated and they ended up having a tickle fight instead of sex, but neither of them really minded because they were together and warm and happy and their bellies hurt from laughing so much.

Mel’s throat clenched and tears stung in her eyes. Did those memories really mean nothing to Abigael? Did she really do all that as just a part of some elaborate plan? Sure, Abigael was a great strategist and she could use almost any situation to her advantage, and she was good at playing the long game. But there was nothing she could gain from pretending to have a relationship with Mel. Not to mention her performance had been too real—except for the few mishaps—to be just pretended. At least that’s what a stubbornly hopeful part of Mel told her.

But it didn’t matter. Abigael didn’t show up when it counted. That was it. They were done. No more chances. If Mel couldn’t count on her, what was the relationship even about?

Biting her lip, Mel nodded to herself. It was the right thing to do, no matter how much her throat clenched, how her hands trembled, how she wanted to curl up and cry. If she gave her another chance, Abigael would just build her up with promises only to let her down again, and she knew she couldn’t take that. This was better. Easier. She would hurt for a few days or weeks, then she’d move on. She had done it before, she would do it again.

Her steps were slow as she walked out of the kitchen. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay there, to keep waiting, hoping. But she pushed it down and stubbornly placed one foot in front of the other.

The stairs looked too tall and steep for her weakened legs. She wondered for a moment if she’d make it up to her room before the first tears fell. Then she felt them rolling down her cheeks, hot and bitter, and she clenched her teeth to keep herself from sniffling or sobbing. She wouldn’t cry. Not over someone who didn’t even bother.

But why didn’t she bother? Why was Mel not worth it, not good enough? Would she ever be good enough? Post-grad drop-out, over-educated bartender, useless Fanny Pack Franny Potion Princess, the half-sister, the odd one out, the one who always stayed behind.

No wonder Abigael didn’t want her. Abigael was a businesswoman, self-made Demon Overlord, and she kicked ass even when on the run with the whole demon world out to kill her. Mel was just a loser. Even her powers were only good for cooling down beer and boiling water. That’s what she was, a witch easily replaceable by kitchen appliances.

There was a dull bang somewhere behind her, followed by heavy breathing. When she turned around, she found Abigael in the entrance hall, leaning against a wall, clutching her stomach with one hand and her upper arm with the other, bleeding onto the floor. Her hair and black, cocktail dress were a mess, she was dirty and her face was scrunched up in pain.

When she looked at Mel, Abigael smiled the smallest smile, her face brightening up just a little. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Abigael,” Mel gasped. Before she knew it, she was running down the stairs and to Abigael’s side. She wrapped her hands around the half-witch’s torso and helped her walk to the couch. “What happened?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Abigael waved it off, but she winced in the middle of the sentence. Mel would have rolled her eyes if she wasn’t too busy trying to get Abigael to sit down.

Once she was seated, sprawled on the couch, bleeding onto the decorative pillows, Mel pried the blood-soaked fabric of her dress away from the wound. There was a deep gash going from her ribs across her stomach and to the hipbone on the other side. There were smaller wounds, too, scratches and cuts, bleeding a dark red that looked terrifying on Abigael’s pale skin.

Mel’s heart squeezed at the sight and her throat clenched. She looked at the wound for a few seconds before she finally found her voice. “Harry!”

“No, don’t, I’m fine,” Abigael protested, but it was too late. With a familiar whoosh, Harry appeared in the middle of the living room.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I thought you forbid us from coming here under the threat of—oh, good god. What happened?” he asked, already on his knees. He held a hand over Aigael’s stomach, a white light coming from his palm. Mel watched with furrowed eyebrows, her hand squeezing Abigael’s tightly, as Harry healed her.

“Why is it taking so long?” Mel questioned.

“It’s a deep wound, most probably with a magical origin,” Harry explained with patience and too much calmness for the situation. “And there appear to be other wounds that need healing. It will take some time for me to fix her up.”

Mel quirked an eyebrow at Abigael. “What is this about?”

Abigael, although in pain, met her stare head-on. “I got into a fight. I handled it.”

“Handled it? You are wounded!”

“I had it handled.”

“Damn it, Abigael! You fought demons, damn strong ones, too, if they managed to get you like this, and you tell me you had it handled? They could have killed you!”

Abigael was about to retort when Harry touched her hand. “May I?”

“What, no!”

“You’re still hurt.”

“I don’t need you to heal me, Harry, I can take care of myself!”

Mel gave her the strictest, most concerned glare she could muster and Abigael’s mouth shut with a clack of her teeth. Mel watched with increasing concern as Harry pulled the sleeve of her jacket higher, revealing more cuts, bruises and scars on the soft, pale skin, all in various degrees of healing. Her throat clenched more and more with each new wound or mark. Those hadn’t been there two weeks ago. She’d seen and explored Abigael’s body more than once, she would have noticed something like that. All of those wounds were new. That made her feel sick, and not even Harry’s healing touch and seeing how the injuries disappeared without a trace made her feel better.

“God, what happened to you?”

Hazel eyes looked to her own, big, soulful, but stubborn. The question went unanswered and as Mel watched Harry work his magic, she wondered what exactly could have happened. Abigael was a strategist and a very good fighter. It had to be a powerful and cunning demon to have gotten the drop on her. Mel grit her teeth. She would find that demon and tear them to shreds. Then again, they’d started a fight with Abigael, they already were in shreds.

After healing the last of Abigael’s injuries, Harry gave Mel a pointed look.

Mel pointed a finger at Abigael. “Go shower. We’ll be having a long discussion about this.”

“I don’t have—“

“Just use my stuff. You know where everything is. And no phase-shifting! Or any other use of magic!”

Abigael looked like she wanted to argue more, but she nodded and walked to the stairs.

Only when they heard the door to the bathroom close did Harry speak. “Those wounds didn’t come from just one fight. She’s been fighting for weeks now.”

“You think she goes out there and hunts demons like a vigilante?”

“Not just demons, Mel. Some of those injuries were inflicted by spells. She was fighting witches as well as demons.”

Mel let out a heavy sigh and pinched at the bridge of her nose. Not a vigilante then. But what? Did Abigael expect to fight her way back to the top of the demon hierarchy the hard way, killing witches and demons anywhere she went? No, that didn’t sound like Abigael. She was cunning and used situations to her own advantage. She didn’t just charge into fights head-first. That was Mel’s way of doing things.

“I don’t know what she did or didn’t do. But she had a fresh tracking mark on her ankle. Someone used a tracking spell on her.”

Mel’s head snapped up to look at him. “What?”

“The spell has been broken, but it’s still fresh. It was used recently.”

“How recently?”

Harry shrugged. “About an hour or two?”

Taking her lip between her teeth, Mel let out a breath through her nose. A tracking spell. Someone attacked Abigael and wanted her dead. Or they wanted to know her whereabouts. It didn’t make sense. No demons could perform a witch tracking spell and witches weren’t after Abigael.

“What about the other injuries? How old were those?”

“Up to two, two and a half weeks. Most were inflicted by demon or witch magic. I healed them, but some scarring will stay for a few days at least.”

Mel nodded. “Is she safe?”

“For now, yes.”

“Are we?”

“The tracking spell had been broken before she came here. We’re safe.”

“Good, thank you. Can you tell Macy and Maggie? We need to be ready in case the spell wasn’t the only tracker they put on her. I’ll go talk to her.”

“Do you think she’ll tell you anything?”

“She will if she knows what’s good for her,” Mel all but growled out. Harry’s eyes widened a little, but he kept his composure, nodding a little before he orbed out hastily. Mel waited in the living room, pacing. She then cleaned Abigael’s blood off of the sofa with a few spells and went back to pacing. When she heard the door to her room close, she waited a few moments to let Abigael get dressed before she marched up the stairs and into her room.

Abigael was sitting on her bed, in Mel’s old t-shirt and shorts, drying out her hair with a towel. She looked to Mel, eyes wide and innocent like a kid with their hand in a cookie jar. The look alone made Mel’s heart flutter in her chest.

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Mel closed the door. She looked at Abigael’s side, half-expecting to see a bloody spot on the t-shirt. She could still see the gash in her mind, deep, gaping, muscles and skin gushing out blood that just wouldn’t clog and stick there. How was Abigael even able to phase-shift with that wound? What if she hadn’t? She would have ended up in a ditch somewhere, in a pool of her own blood, those hazel eyes that always held so many emotions would stare blank and lifeless into the night sky…

She blinked rapidly to keep the stinging of tears at bay. Abigael stood up and moved closer, but Mel pushed herself against the door and stretched her hand out to stop her.

“Mel…” Abigael whispered. Even she knew the situation was serious if she decided not to use any nickname.

“What happened?”

“Let it go, I handled it—“

“You could have died! You could have died on our date night, and the last memory I’d have of you would be hating you for standing me up! I’d have thought I didn’t matter while you’d be lying dead and I’d never know, and I’d hate you, and hate myself for hating you because, despite everything you’ve ever done to my sisters and me, I love you! And I don’t care if I have to give you the truth potion or use a truth spell, you will tell me what happened! You owe me that much!”

Abigael watched her with wide eyes and wonder on her face. “You love me?”

Mel glared at her but denied nothing.

Nodding slightly, Abigael backed up until she was sitting on the edge of the bed again. “I got ambushed by hunters. Mercenaries. They go around the country, capturing any and all magical beings they can find. They put a tracking spell on me so they always teleported wherever I phase-shifted. That’s why I was late tonight. I had to take them all out before I could come here. I didn’t want to lead them to you.”

Mel swallowed painfully. “You killed them?”

“I had no choice. I didn’t have the time to break the tracking spell with them sending spells, curses, fireballs and energy balls my way.”

“How many?”

“Eight. Three demons. Five witches.”

“Witches…” Mel breathed out. “Witches hunting witches…”

“You don’t trust me,” Abigael’s voice was sad as she spoke, but it wasn’t a question.

“No, I do trust you,” Mel assured quickly. “That’s what’s making me nervous. Witches should protect each other and all magical beings, not hunt them… how did they lure you in? You were phase-shifting.”

“I stopped by a florist’s. When I walked out, I heard cries for help from the back alley. I guess you’re rubbing off on me because I went in to see what was going on. I saw them phase-shift a witch out of there. I tried to stop them, but they attacked me.”

“Why were you at a florist’s?”

Abigael lowered her head a little. “I wanted to get you flowers. I know I’ve been… busy lately and I wanted to do something nice for you. Unfortunately, I had to leave them behind.”

“So you almost died,” Mel choked the words out, “because of me.”

“What, no!” Abigael was on her feet and in front of Mel in a second, hands rubbing her arms and face only inches away from Mel’s. “None of this was your fault. It was mine. I have been neglecting you, I have walked in on them, it’s all on me.”

“What about the other injuries? Harry said you’ve been getting into fights for two weeks?”

“I am a hunted woman,” Abigael admitted with a small smirk, but that dropped from her face as quickly as it got there. “Sometimes I let Godric’s men find me just to teach them a lesson. And sometimes, since Godric ordered his demons to kill witches, I happen upon an attack when I’m out and I… the first time it happened, I couldn’t help but see you in the witch that was being attacked. She looked so much like you. And since then I… I’ve been looking out for trouble when I’m out on business. Demons don’t like to be interrupted from tormenting and terrorising.”

“All this…all of this pain and wounds, because I pushed you…”

Mel closed her eyes, face downcast. She refused to look into Abigael’s honest, hazel eyes. She knew that if she did, she would break completely and she couldn’t do that. There were bigger things to worry about than her own fears and worries. She just needed to make sure Abigael was all right and then she’d deep-dive into finding those mercenaries and ignoring her feelings. It’s been working pretty well for her in the past years.

But she seemed to have forgotten how stubborn Abigael was and how well she knew Mel. Soon enough, Abigael’s fingers were under Mel’s chin, tilting her head up to look at her. A soft kiss was placed on Mel’s forehead, her temple, her cheek, and long, thin fingers intertwined with her own. “I’m here,” Abigael whispered into the space between them. “I’m here, I’m alive and I’m not going anywhere. It would take more than just a few hunters to take me away from you.”

As she spoke, their bodies inched closer, drawn together by a force Mel couldn’t and wouldn’t resist. She lowered her head to bury herself into the crook of Abigael’s neck, her hands landed on Abigael’s back, running over every inch of her body she could reach, relishing the warm, solid skin under her fingertips. She breathed deeply, gulping down Abigael’s scent, which had come to mean calmness and safety in the past weeks.

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” Mel found herself whispering.

Abigael’s throat vibrated under Mel’s lips as she spoke. “Oh, Little Witch… I’ve always wanted you. And I don’t think I can ever stop. I only cancelled before because I knew you’d understand. I trust you.”

Mel let out a breath. Abigael wasn’t a feelings person. She didn’t like having feelings almost as much as she didn’t like talking about them. With her, an ‘I trust you’ was just as much, if not more than an ‘I love you’. Even though a part of Mel wanted to hear those three words from Abigael, as naïve and foolish as that might seem, Mel was happy with what she was given.

“Now, I believe I’ve been promised a home-made dinner that I could kill for right now,” Abigael smiled down at Mel, teasing, yet soft. “And there is a new documentary on lions that I think you might enjoy. What do you say, Little Witch? Shall we go salvage out date?”

“On one condition.”

“I’m listening.”

“Next time you decide to be a reckless ass, you’re cooking,” Mel narrowed her eyes and gently poked at Abigael’s arm.

Abigael chuckled. “That can be arranged,” she whispered before connecting their lips. Mel smiled into the warm kiss. Abigael might have cracked her heart tonight, and she herself might have broken it with overthinking, jumping to conclusions and mistrust, but she knew the two of them would put it back together.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's all for today, folks! I hope you liked the story! Let me know what you think in the comments below, I love reading what you have to say about my stories! I will probably be posting another story sometime next week or in two weeks' time, depending on how fast I'll manage to write it. 
> 
> If you want to talk to me about the story, or about anything OverWitch or Charmed related, or anything at all really, come yell at me on my [Tumblr](https://justalittlewritingnerd.tumblr.com/)! I would love to talk to someone about these things, but most of my friends don't really watch the show, so I've got no one to vent to. 
> 
> I hate you all, hoomans!


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